


Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground

by TheOnlyOneWhosBeenInLoveWithMe



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, I'll tag this later on omg, Multi, Prince!Louis, Probably some graphic stuff so beware, captain!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-02-03 09:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12745437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyOneWhosBeenInLoveWithMe/pseuds/TheOnlyOneWhosBeenInLoveWithMe
Summary: They stormed the castle at 2 in the morning, breaking down the front door with a force never to have been seen before, tearing apart everything they came across on their path for revenge. The butler ended up in three different pieces on the floor, blood running across the freshly polished marble of the dining hall, seeping into the beautiful, Persian carpet they got handmade for their anniversary. The three maids ended up headless as the men made their way up to the second floor, the chef's head falling from where it used to be attached to the rest of his body and into the steaming pot of soup, ginger hair a tousle amongst the dark brown liquid. At 2:15, they found the sleep quarters of the young princesses, dirty fingers digging into the fabric of their nightwear as they brought them outside, hiccups and sobs heard from the petrified little girls as they forced open the door to the King and Queen's room, holding them both at gunpoint. At 2:17 the Prince, the heir of the throne, was lined up along with his sisters.Or, the Pirate!AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

They stormed the castle at 2 in the morning, breaking down the front door with a force never to have been seen before, tearing apart everything they came across on their path for revenge. The butler ended up in three different pieces on the floor, blood running across the freshly polished marble of the dining hall, seeping into the beautiful, Persian carpet they got handmade for their anniversary. The three maids ended up headless as the men made their way up to the second floor, the chef's head falling from where it used to be attached to the rest of his body and into the steaming pot of soup, ginger hair a tousle amongst the dark brown liquid. At 2:15, they found the sleep quarters of the young princesses, dirty fingers digging into the fabric of their nightwear as they brought them outside, hiccups and sobs heard from the petrified little girls as they forced open the door to the King and Queen's room, holding them both at gunpoint. At 2:17 the Prince, the heir of the throne, was lined up along with his sisters.

"Please, just let the children go, I will give you what it is you seek," the King pleads helplessly for his children, all 5 of them, tears running down their reddened cheeks as their father faces a gun pressed to his temple by the hand of a caramel skinned pirate, large hat covering most of his face from the nose and up. A bark of laughter erupts from the outlaws, the silly begging of their very own king a lovely doze of amusement in their otherwise busy life, his round face pale as the gun is cocked, loud and clear, and the room falls silent. His eldest son squeezes his eyes shut tightly as an arm wraps around his neck from behind, a solid body pushed against him as someone takes a rough hold of him, the stench enough for him to turn his face away and gag lightly. Long, nimble fingers gripped onto his chin and forced him to face his father, the cold shock of fear running down the spine of the King enough for his eldest, his only son, to whimper quietly and clench his hands into tight fists. Long locks of hair tickle at his neck as someone leans their head over his shoulder to directly address the King, cocking a gun of their very own and pressing it against the side of the Prince's head. Soft breaths hit his collarbones.

"I don't doubt that for a second, your Highness, but what I seek you won't give," the sneer in his voice is as clear as day despite the raging cold night outside and it makes the Prince's shuffle on his feet, tears pressing at the back of his throat as he tries to control his emotions, tries to appear strong for his shivering siblings, casting them reassuring looks whenever he can. It doesn't help. 

"No, no I swear to you Captain, you may have what you want. Please, take it all, just spare us," the King's face grows redder by the minute, his voice losing its infamous steady and calm melody as fear rumbles through his body. His wife seems to have swallowed her tongue where she's sat at the head of their shared bed, her hands folded in her lap. The Captain takes notice. He turns to his crew and motions for them to grab a hold of the girls, nodding towards the doors. 

"Take the girls back to their chambers, tuck them in nicely. Niall, sing that God-awful lullaby you insist on singing during our drunken escapades, please," the Irish crewmember with the crooked teeth and light brown hair saluted him in a playful manner and took each of the young twin's hands, leading them away, "Liam, take the lovely Prince here to our ship, give him a nice tour," The King shakes his head quickly and staggers forward, clasping his hands together at his chest as he cries, weeps like a fat baby on the floor as he crawls towards the captain, reaching for him. 

"I beg you, Captain, do not-" he doesn't get to say much more before a bullet forces its way through the thick skin right between his eyebrows and cuts him off, his body collapsing to the floor in a messy heap of blood and expensive silk. The Queen screams, suddenly woken from her trance as she pulls the covers up to hide her face, continuous shouts of profanities falling from her mouth as the captain steps over her husband and makes his way to her, bloody footprints trailing behind him. He takes note of her apparent beauty, dark hair styled intricately in a beautiful, thick braid that cascaded down her back, her almond shaped blue eyes wide in horror and red with tears as he strokes a hand over her cheek, dirty knuckles smudging against her cheekbone. She reaches a hand out and touches his forearm carefully, sobs wrecking her body as she speaks. 

"P-please, d-do not hurt my son, Captain, h-he is all I have," she whispers, fresh tears staining her cheeks as she covers her gasping mouth with a dainty, soft hand, his soft hushes seemingly upsetting her further. His gun is placed on the nightstand as he knots his fingers in her hair, forcing her to look up at him as he speaks, dark eyes hidden under his curls. 

"As long as you do exactly as I tell you to, there shan't be a problem, my love," the smile on his face sends a shiver of fright through her as he forces her down on the bed and rips her nightgown out of the way, forcing himself into her body at 2:33, the sight of him looming over her with his pants pulled down and his shirt rucked up to his armpits, strong hands pinning her wrists above her head as he pushes into her continuously, the bed slamming into the wall with every forceful thrust. She screams and trashes underneath him, the silky fabric of her nightgown soon splattered white with his release as he winks at her and tucks himself in, leaving the room silently with a tip of his hat. 

~ 

"Let go of me, you filthy, dirty rat! I will have you arrested, I am the bloody Prince!" 

No matter how much Louis struggled in the pirate's grasp, it was completely useless. Untrimmed, scratchy fingernails dug into the skin of his bicep as he was hauled towards the docks, cobblestoned alleyways dark and damp. His bare feet were cold against the stone, stumbling along painfully with each long stride the outlaw took, his strong arms holding onto Louis tightly. There was a small smirk plastered on the man's grimy face, tattooed forearms flexing as he walks faster, black masts blowing delicately in the wind as they rounded a corner and faced one of the many piers scattered along the seaside. 

"You can threaten me all you like, your Highness, but there is no use. Captain's orders," his eyes meet Louis' briefly and he flashes a smile, corner tooth missing, leaving behind an empty onyx space between a yellow row of uneven teeth. A shiver ran down Louis' spine just as the pirate managed to force him onto the gangway, the dark wood underneath him creaking with each forced step he took, the thin material shaking under their shared weight. The heavy smell of salt water filled his nostrils the moment he found himself aboard the ship, old planks stained from years of wear and tear. The man tugs at his elbow harshly to get him to follow, the two of them descending the many stairs leading them into the belly of the vessel, the soft swaying making Louis slightly queasy. He was pretty sure they had reached the bottom deck when the pirate ripped open a door and pushed him inside with little care, lighting an oil lamp to illuminate the dark and damp room, his fingers messing with a set of keys to unlock one of the brigs in front of them. 

"Come on, your Highness, I haven't got all day," the man huffs out, locking the cell behind Louis after the Prince reluctantly decided to follow orders, getting a quick peek at the gun settled in the man's trousers. He wasn't spared another glance before he was left alone, the dark room swaying softly with the movement of the ship. Louis fell asleep curled up on the floor, what appeared to be an old potato sack hugged to his chest as the room grew colder. 

~ 

It took three days before anyone checked in on him. His throat felt like sandpaper, his tongue trying desperately to wet his dry, cracked lips to stop them from bleeding, but it was to no avail. His hair was sticky from the humid air inside the small room, covered overall in dark planks and a stack of barrels, an array of weapons secured against the wall by leather belts, silver nails beaten messily into the wood. He tried to sit up, his body feeling heavy like lead as he managed to push himself into a sitting position, palms pressed roughly against the floor as he settled his back against the wall, head leaned back. A clutter of voices could be heard from above but he paid them no mind anymore, too busy trying to keep himself awake in case someone came, in case they decided he could live. 

He sat like that for two hours before the door rattled slightly, the handle being twisted quickly as an unfamiliar face appeared in front of him, a head of thin and messy ginger hair walking through the entrance quickly. His eyes were a piercing blue as they settled on Louis, lips pressed together as he lets out a low whistle, eyes raking over Louis' dishevelled body. 

"I see solitary confinement did you some good, Prince," he winked at him and fished out a key from his pocket, dangling it in front of Louis with a shit eating grin spreading across his pale cheeks. "How about some food?" 

He didn't know what to expect when offered something to eat, but he certainly wasn't expecting to be lead up to the main deck of the ship again, the harsh sunlight causing him to stumble back with his pants pressed tightly into the sockets of his eyes, a pained groan emitting from his dried throat. Everything hurt, the ginger lad's hand pressing against his shoulder to lead him further, the unfamiliar set of wooden French doors in front of him making his stomach twist painfully. He wouldn't dare fight back against the pirate whose hand was wrapped tightly around each of his biceps, but he did manage to tense his posture up a bit as the pirate rapped his knuckles against the door, waiting for the small 'enter' to bounce back at him. 

"Well, Prince, enjoy your meal," he doesn't have time to protest before he's being pushed into the room, the door closing silently behind him with a small 'click' as he climbs back onto his feet, his back facing the room. He doesn't think twice before grabbing the handles, shaking the door roughly as his chest tightens, the feeling of panic taking over him as he pulls feverishly at the wood separating him from safety. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Princess."

The cold metal of a gun barrel tickles along his temple, his hands freezing in the midst of their desperate breakout mission, shoulders tensing up as the soft ghost of alcoholised breath smooths over the dampened skin of his shoulder. A pair of hands wrap around his thin wrists, squeezing harshly in order for him to let go of the door handles, a pained sound escaping his mouth as those large hands flips him around, slamming him against the doors. The room is dark, darker than he expected, only a few candles alit on the dining table offering any kind of light, yellow beams flickering across their lavish dinner, all sorts of meat, vegetables and various fruits spread out across a mahogany table. The same beams illuminate the face of the Captain, shadows cascading over his sharp features, aging him at least 10 years as they settle deeply into his collarbones. His deep set, green eyes shine under his curled eyelashes, a jagged scar running all the way from his temple down to the seam of his lips. Louis focuses on his cupids bow for a few seconds, the delicate bow of them enhancing the plumpness of the red flesh, stretching across the wide expanse of his teeth as he laughs, two oversized front teeth digging into a cracked bottom lip. 

"Lovely of you to join me this evening, why don't you have a seat?" His voice rumbles deep in Louis' chest as he steps away, motioning for the royal to have a seat at the end of the table, a plush chair awaiting him. The dark red material groans under his weight, the Captain taking his place at the head of the table as a man enters the room, body clad in a frilly apron, light brown hair a mess on his head. He nods quickly at Louis, flashing him a large grin filled with crooked, yellowed teeth, bending down into a mock courtesy with his apron firmly clasped in one hand, cackling loudly. 

"I see you've met our Captain, your Highness. Isn't he a lovely thing?" Louis doesn't miss the disapproving look the Captain shoots at his crew member, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, triggering a dimple to soften the tight flesh. 

"It's Louis, my name is Louis," the two men each give him a surprised look, the cook shifting his weight from one leg to another with an uncomfortable cough whilst the Captain's eyebrows nearly touch his cheekbones, his knuckles white as he clutches at the armrest of his chair. Louis can't help but to gulp softly. 

"You will address my crew with a hell of a lot more respect than that, Princess, I assure you of it," the Captain grits out, jaw clenched tight as he turns back to the cook, shaking off the intimidating demeanour he had just used on Louis as if it was nothing. 

"If you'd please bring us a bottle of our finest wine, Niall, I would be very pleased," the Irishman salutes the Captain playfully before sliding a curtain out of his way, a hidden doorway with a large, brass padlock hanging from a rusty hasp staple that crunches when Niall twists the key, door sliding open to reveal a small stash of alcohol of all sorts, a dust cloud dancing through the air. A bottle of deep, red liquid is quickly presented to the Captain, twisted open in a corkscrew motion when the Captain gives a nod of approval and poured into their glasses sloppily. Louis had never drunk before, being no older than 17, yet the pirate in front of him didn’t seem too concerned when he motioned for Louis to drink, smirking at him over the rim of his glass. 

"You must be starving, love, feel free to dig in," at the invitation Louis' quick to scan the table, fingers reaching out to latch onto the leg of a whole turkey, eyes apprehensively raising to question the Captain silently. The man tips his glass towards Louis and gives a soft nod, green eyes sparkling with amusement at the Prince's manners. "Manners aren't much of a concern here." 

And with that Louis shoves his teeth into the soft flesh of the bird, crispy skin slipping down the side of his face as he eats like he's never eaten before, elbows digging into the table as he keeps attacking the meat in his hand as if someone's going to steal it from him. The Captain silently cuts a slice of meat from himself, eyes occasionally drifting over to the Prince, hands now busied with the wooden bowl of grapes, popping four in his mouth at a time, soft juices flowing down the sides of his face. He can't help but to think of his father, what he would say if he saw him like this, but then the picture of the King falling to the floor with a puddle of crimson spilling from his head dawns on the Prince, forcing him to lead his mind elsewhere. He catches sight of a basket of fresh bread and digs in, slathering soft butter onto it before shoving nearly half down his throat, swallowing it down with the rest of his wine. The Captain follows suit with an amused smile on his face, the first proper smile Louis had ever seen him pull, and motions for Niall to fill their glasses back up. Their eyes meet as he raises his glass up and sucks his thumb between plump, reddened lips, hair cascading gracefully over his shoulder. 

"Welcome aboard The Black Crow, your Highness."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took wayyyy too long, but I'm a really slow writer alright? I'm sorry haha. I hope you enjoy anyways though, please leave some love in the comment section <3 <3

He spent another week down in the brig by himself, the potato sack having been replaced with a decent, hand sown blanket handed to him by the very man that dragged him aboard this ship in the first place, the ship's Quartermaster Liam Payne. His doe eyed appearance didn't fit one of a pirate, chocolate eyes growing dark under the heavy weight of thick, bushy eyebrows, a distinct jawline dusted with freshly trimmed facial hair, the lobes of his ears decorated with various silver hoops. He cracked a smile towards the Prince as he takes a seat on one of the many barrels littering the room. The Prince was surprised to find that the puppy eyed, kind faced man in front of him was supposed to be of equal rank to the frightening Captain he ate dinner with seven days ago, but he didn't dare comment on it. 

"Just take it, aye? I won't tell the Captain a thing," Liam promises as he slides the scratchy material through the bars of the brig, his rings clanking against the metal as he moves to stand back up. There's a large gun secured at his hip, dangling with every move he makes and Louis swallows down heavily, wrapping the blanket around himself. It doesn't do much to help protect his freezing limbs from the dampened air in the belly of the ship, but it felt nice to cover up his bare legs with something again, the downy hairs covering his tan legs not doing him much good. Liam eyes him with a hint of amusement as he pulls a clay pipe from his shirt pocket, using the flame of his oil lamp to light the tobacco on fire. 

"Would you mind?" Louis mumbles, pulling the edge of the blanket to cover his nose, the heady smoke around him making his throat constrict painfully. This only seemed to further amuse the Quartermaster, his back bending to lean towards the Prince as he puffs out a large breath of ill smelling smoke, his wide grin exposing the uneven row of teeth in his mouth. 

"Mind what, your Highness? Don’t like the smell of smoke, do we?" Louis nearly gags as he's forced to inhale a breath, the sweet and sticky smoke filling his nostrils in the most uncomfortable way he could describe. Liam whistles sadly and rips the door open, his heeled booths clanking against the dampened, rotting wood of the ship as he turns, brown eyes meeting blue ones. 

"I'll be back tomorrow morning. Captain's got you on duty," and with that, he's gone. 

~ 

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon when Louis' brought up on deck by the ginger lad and thrown to the floor on his knees. The crew around him grows silent, gathering around them in a large circle as the French doors to the Captain's cabin slides open, revealing the man in all his glory, dressed in a blood red velour jacket, breaking all the dress code rules he possibly could. Louis dared to shoot him a look, blue eyes squinting heavily as the sun licks across his tanned face, the dirty fabric of his thin, white button up sliding off a slender shoulder. A murmur of voices gathers around them as the Captain bends down to his level, eyes traveling across Louis' dirt smudged features. 

"I hope you had a good night's sleep, Princess, because you are about to have the worst day of your fucking life," a roar erupts from the crew surrounding them, fists pumping towards the sky in excitement as the Captain pulls his sword, the cold metal sliding underneath the soft skin of Louis' chin. He swallows down heavily and allows the Captain to tip his head back, a soft trickle of blood sliding down his smooth neck as the sword nicks his skin, a soft sheen of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. The Captain gives him a lopsided grin, drawing his sword back into the safety of its sheath, the zinging sound of metal against leather sending an all-consuming shudder up the young Prince's spine. 

"My lovely boatswain here, Mister Ed Sheeran," he clasps a hand on the shoulder of the burly, ginger lad that brought Louis up on deck, causing the man to tip his imaginary hat at Louis with a sheepish grin, "He will show you everything you need to know," Louis takes notice of the Captain's seemingly playful mood, his shoulders held proudly as he saunters around Louis in a slow circle, dragging the heel of his boot along the chipped, sun bleached floorboards underneath Louis' clad knees, each step vibrating underneath him. 

"I expect you to listen, Louis, because I like people who listen. You disobey order, I'll throw you off this bloody ship like the little rat you are. Clear?" The captain's eyes are wide in amusement as he taps the pad of his finger against the smooth skin underneath Louis' chin, grinning maniacally at the prince before pulling back, clapping his hands together loudly. 

"Get to work, you lazy sons of bitches!" The crew scurries like a group of mice, each one taking their position, a handful of them disappearing below deck with buckets and brooms, the loud sound of heavy boots dragging Louis from his train of thoughts. There's a flash of fiery ginger before his eyes before a bucket is being pushed against his chest, cloudy water spilling over the edge and across his white gauze shirt, staining the edges of it as he's pulled to his feet. Inside the bucket a small, wooden brush with stiff bristles bobs at the surface. 

"Probably had servants for this back at the castle, aye?" Louis squints at him as the sun flashes over the edge of the vessel, a confused frown etched over his young features as the boatswain inspects him, shaking his head slowly. 

"Today, you'll be the servant, ya royal cunt." 

Louis doesn't have time to react before Ed disappears, eyeing the contents of the bucket tentatively as the crew moves about around him, his small frame kneeling down to the floor slowly. He doesn't want to admit defeat, he wanted to show the bloody Captain that he intended to be treated with respect and care, but with a single glance over at the man, his long curls cascading over his shoulders as he overlooks his crew from the quarter deck, he soon accepts that never in a million years is he going to gain the respect of that disgusting pirate. As he sweeps across the floorboards with harsh strokes, his knees aching and shoulders burning, he also realises that he would never want his acceptance either. 

At sundown, the Captain gathers the crew once again. Louis doesn't feel the least surprised when the man slaps a hand down on his shoulder, towering over him as he speaks to his crew, a soft glint in those dark eyes. 

"Today, my dear men, we have officially broken down a royal aboard our beloved ship," the men barks out laughter's, hoarse and deep in the night sky as the sun goes down, the darkness carving out the deep contours of the Captain's face. "We have made him our very own, personal swabbie." 

Louis cringes at the words, the loud cheers growing louder around him, his shoulders slumping as he attempts to hide his face, refuses to meet the eyes of the Captain out of pure shame, the feeling deep in his gut borderline painful. A hand slaps down onto his shoulders, knuckles adorned with simple, square letters in black ink, fingernails lined with dirt digging into the soft skin right below Louis' collarbones. It makes him wince, the burning pain of his flesh being parted making him shrug his shoulders, a silent request for the Captain to fuck off. It doesn't work. 

"Tonight, crew, we celebrate. Bring the rum!" 

Louis didn't know what to expect when the Captain mentioned a 'celebration', but it certainly wasn't this. The men had brought out stools and chairs to the main deck, littered them around and sat themselves down with bottles upon bottles of darkened, cloudy rum in dusted bottles, a few feisty games of cards being carried out in the corners. The fact that they didn't throw him back into the brig was surprising enough, but when Niall's hand found its way onto Louis' lower back to drag him along, a bottle of rum being shoved at his chest, he was properly gobsmacked. The Irishman didn't seem to notice the disapproving looks he got from the Captain, too busy strumming along on a very homemade guitar surrounded by Liam, Zayn Malik who served as the ship's Sailing Master and a few other men Louis hadn't seen before. He could also spot Ed taking a seat next to Niall, a dingy guitar clutched in his fist. They strum out melodies that sounded way more pleasant than the young Prince was expecting as he took a seat further away from them, their voices harmonizing together to the tune of an old Pirate's shanty Louis recalls his sisters singing whenever their parents went away on one of their many voyages, the memories of their young voices all quiet and giggly making Louis' chest ache painfully. After weeks aboard the ship, the heavy sea air and the labour ate away at his memories, their faces moulding into one another until he was left with a lingering feeling of what he once knew, what he had so abruptly lost. He gulps down a large sip of the bitter alcohol he was handed, wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve as the liquid burned his raw throat, tears immediately springing to his eyes. 

"You don't strike me as a drinker." 

He whips his head around at the sound of the Captain's voice, the tall man appearing at his side with a smug look on his face, alcohol poured delicately into a whiskey glass rather than being chugged straight from the bottle, the crystal shimmering under the night skies. Red, puffy lips wrap across the rim in a slow sip, tongue peeking out to lick at the excess liquid running down the expensive glass, Louis following the movement with curious eyes. The red velvet coat he had been sporting earlier was long gone, gauze shirt as black as the night sky stretching over the broad expanse of his shoulders, the wide collar exposing two swallow tattoos on his chest. 

"You and me both," the other man seems to appreciate Louis' humorous tone, a quiet laugh rumbling from his lips as he sips his rum, one fingernail blackened and swollen. 

"Nice to see the alcohol loosening you up a bit, your Highness. You're way too fuckin' tight," He clanks his glass against Louis' bottle softly before he drowns the rest of his drink, smacking his lips together as the burning sensations travel through the planes of his chest, a soft sheen of sweat settling between his pecs, chest ballooning in a deep inhale of breath. The black ink of his swallow tattoos glistens underneath the onslaught of bright moonlight, a halo of white cascading across darkened wooden beams and planks, illuminating the ship in an almost ghostly fashion. Louis swallowed down another gulp of rum. 

"Do I scare you, Louis? Do you find me intimidating?" When their eyes meet it's like a bolt of lightning touches them both, a heavy tension settling in the air between as they drink silently, accompanied by the murmurs and drunken slurs emitted from the intoxicated crewmembers around them. Louis doesn't know what to say, allows his chin to touch the bony expanse of his chest, eyes trained on the fabric of his trousers. 

"Yes." 

The answer is whispered under a hushed breath, the Captain leaning in closer in order to capture the quiet voice of the Royal Heir, seemingly satisfied at the belittled frame the boy has become after stepping foot aboard his ship. 

"You shall not fear me, your Highness, I will not hurt you," the Captain's voice is moist against his neck, breath tickling against him as he sucks in a hurried gasp of air, body all rigid and tight, "My job is simply to rule this ship and nothing else, and as long as I rule this ship you will live, you hear?" Louis dares peek up at him, confusion lacing his gaze as he tilts his head slightly, bottom lip trapped between a straight row of teeth. 

"You're quite important, Princess."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took wayyyyy too long, I'm so sorry guys. And thank you for the support! I appreciate it.

The Captain was a mystery to Louis, moving quickly and efficiently in the shadows whenever he wasn't looking, keeping a constant eye on the royal as if making sure he's doing everything correctly. One minute he'd be up on the quarter deck, the glittering emerald of his eyes watching his crew with a hint of annoyance that was mostly trumped by the absolute pride he bestowed his crew with, hair pulled back into a small ponytail by a crimson red ribbon. Then, before Louis can react, the Captain has snuck up behind him and slid an arm around his shoulders, singing the words of old pirate shanty's in a humorous tone as he passes the royal, eyes laced over with playfulness and intimidation. 

"Keep working like that, Princess, and I might consider keeping you around," he whispers, tipping his hat towards Louis before disappearing up the stairs leading to the forecastle, the bow of the ship visible from Louis position on the staircase of the quarter deck, their figurehead glistening under the midday sun. She was a beauty, carved out of pure brass in the shape of a mermaid, topless and beautiful with large ringlets of curly hair and curved tail. Louis hadn't seen her up close yet, only seen the Captain stroking his hand across her bare chest every night before heading towards his quarters, placing a kiss to her cheek with a wide grin etched on his face. Louis dreamed of seeing her up close, only having heard tales of her and how the Black Crow stole her from another famous pirate, Simon Cowell and his deadly crew aboard the Cecilia. 

"Get to fuckin' work, rat!" 

Some burly, bald man pushes past Louis, arms littered with poorly executed tattoos and thin, white scars, right eye covered respectfully by a makeshift eye patch to, undoubtedly, cover up some nasty accident. He stands at least 2 meters high, and Louis nearly wets himself as the man carries on with his business, throwing one last nasty look towards the prince before disappearing. Louis sighs heavily and wipes the sweat off his brow, the water that once filled his bucket now long gone as the wooden container rolls along the deck, his scrubbing brush still clutched tightly in his hand. 

"Don't mind them, they just enjoy pickin' on the newcomers," Louis turns abruptly at the sound of a voice to his left, coming face to face with the Sailing Master Zayn Malik, his tanned skin glistening beautifully in the sun, plump lips wrapped around a clay pipe similar to the Quartermaster's. He offers Louis somewhat of a smile and pushes off the railing, reaching his hand out for the royal to shake, palms smudged with residual gunpowder and oil. Louis shakes it firmly. 

"The Captain seems to be satisfied with your work if his mood is anything to go by," they watch in unison as the Captain places a sloppy kiss onto Niall's cheek as the Irishman indulges some of the crew in a midday snack, exotic fruits that they no doubt stole during their last raid being passed around from one pair of dirty hands to another. Zayn inhales heavily, thick tobacco smoke curling around the two of them as the wind picks up, tousled black hair falling across forehead, "He doesn't normally stay out on deck that much, prefers the luxuries of his quarters to the stench of his crewmembers." 

Louis snickers quietly at that. 

"I can imagine," he muses in response, cocking his head in interest as the Captain settles at the bow of the ship, hip propped against the railing as he watches the horizon in front of them, a hand brought up to shield his face from the sun despite the hat perched atop his head. "The smell here is unimaginable." 

The Sailing master doesn't seem to make ill of the Prince's comment, just grins widely at him before exhaling an audible puff of smoke, his hair fluttering in the soft breeze as he dumps the contents of his pipe overboard, shoving it into the chest pocket of his ripped and smudged shirt, the collar ripped at the seams to the point where it slips over his shoulder. Louis eyes the various tattoos littering the tanned skin, needlework precise and sharp, the work of a professional undoubtedly. Louis never looked at men in a particular way, or women for that matter, he always kept to himself and took the advice of his mother to not busy himself with silly human needs, to rather focus on the importance of his studies and his piano lessons. Despite this, the Prince couldn't deny the obvious attractiveness of the dirty pirate and it made his brows furrow. 

"Well, I should get back to work before Harry slaps me half silly," Louis casts a look at Zayn, his frame disappearing down the steps of the quarterdeck and around the corner, most likely making his way into the belly of the ship to find the master gunner. Louis hadn't seen him yet, or at least he thought so, but he soon refilled his bucket with a little help from Niall and started scrubbing the floors once more, all the while being watched by the Captain. 

As the sun went down and the crew slowly but surely started rigging the ship before heading to their respective sleeping quarters, Louis found himself wandering towards the forecastle, arched brows lines with soft hues of sweat and dirt, his knees red and aching from all the scrubbing. He sat down at the bow, feet dangling over the edge as the sky exploded in pinks and oranges, painting his tanned skin beautifully as he used the bandana tucked away in his pocket to wipe his face clean, and he found himself nearly tumbling over the edge as a presence pushed up behind him, breath fanning out over the dampened skin of his neck as he twists to look at the Captain. The man looked severly underdressed compared to what Louis was used to, a thin, organza shirt covering his broad shoulders, yet his chest was exposed as the top buttons were undone, his tanned chest glistening in the sun. His curls were loose and wild, curling around his face as he steps up next to Louis, allowing the wind to pick up his curls and throw them over his shoulders as he leaned across the railing. There was silence for a while, the two of them watching intently as the sun finally slipped below the horizon and left behind darkness, the water rippling ominously below them. Louis is the first one to speak. 

"Who's Harry?" 

The Captain seems to find the question quite entertaining judging by the smile that spreads across his features, feet shuffling as he tilts his head up to Louis, eyes squinting a little. It's such a vulnerable position, he thinks, neck bared and body so slouched and relaxed, it wouldn't take much for Louis to grab him by his shirt and toss him overboard. Then again, the man easily had a good few inches on him just about anywhere you could imagine, so that plan was quickly discarded of. 

"Harry, or Harold, if you'd prefer, stole this ship from his deadbeat father when he was 17 and sailed the world looking for crewmembers," he climbs across the railing and sits down next to Louis, reaching behind himself to tie his hair up with a dark ribbon, a few strands falling out to tickle across his sweaty forehead. 

"He almost got killed, you know, a handful of times to be honest, and when he thought all hope was lost, Cecilia came along. And my God, was she beautiful," he spoke warmly of the ship, and he looked straight at Louis as he continued on, "The Crow didn't stand a chance against her, not really, but when you underestimate someone because of their scrawny looks and meek age, you get burnt more often than not." He seemed to be hinting at something, nudging at Louis with his elbow. 

"Remember that, Princess." 

Louis didn't feel like correcting the nickname, so he reluctantly bit at the inside of his cheek, eyes growing accustomed to the darkness that covered the spaces around them now, fingers clutching tightly at the edge of the ship as she rocked across the waves, creaking softly whenever she'd hit a large one, easily being steadied by the calm seas surrounding her. He stroked his thumb across the aged wood with a faint smile on his lips, tilting his head. 

"You don't look like a Harold." 

That made the Captain bark out a loud, bellied laugh, his eyes crinkling as he shakes his head and chews on the flesh of his plump, red bottom lip, eyes glistening with humour. They share a small smile before Louis climbs down, bare feet hitting the cold wood with a soft thud. 

"I should head back down, Liam's probably waiting to lock me in," he finds himself walking backwards, eyes locked with the Captain as the older man nods at him as a parting before turning back towards the sea, looking over the glittering waters. 

~ 

Louis continued on with his work through the next week, didn't hesitate to follow orders once given them by the Captain himself, and dreadfully enough he felt himself falling into a routine, stepping out of the way to let people pass and scrubbing the floors all day long, the bruises staining his dainty kneecaps enough to prove so. 

When the sun started tickling along the edge of the horizon and glimmer in beautiful pinks and oranges, the Captain strolled up to him and pursed his lips in deep thought. 

"I might have a job offer for you, savvy." 

That nickname as well, everyone aboard this fucking ship suddenly decided to trade the royal mockery for some good, old fashioned bullying, and Louis felt his shoulders grow heavy and his eyelids droop at the mention of more work, his neck craning to peek up at the Captain. Yet, despite his exhaustion, he stumbled onto his feet and nodded politely at the older man, keeping his head low as he spoke to him with carefully chosen words. 

"Anything for you, Captain," Louis answered, remembering the show the Captain had put on the other night as someone struck a nerve in him, and he proceeded to grab his cabin boy, Alfie, slice his stomach open and make the boy hold onto his intestines as he slowly bled out over the deck. As Louis scrubbed the blood away for hours later on, he reminded himself to tread lightly around the infamous pirate. 

Harry just smirked at his answer and tilted his head to study the Prince, stroking the pads of his finger under Louis' baby soft chin, their eyes meeting as Louis' head tilts back and he feels like crying then, watching the emerald green irises before him sparkle in amusement before pushing the Prince by his shoulders, laughing loudly as he tumbles to the floor, bucket of water spilling all over the floorboards and rolling into a corner. 

"I like you, Louis, I really do. And after what happened to Alfie, it would be a shame to watch the same thing happen to you," his eyes fall to the expanse of Louis abdomen, teeth nibbling at the flesh of his bottom lip before he grins and turns around, kicking the heels of his boots against the floor as he walks. 

"Finish up your work and come to my quarters, I need to discuss something with you," he looks over one last time at Louis, a playful smile on his lips as he tilts his hat at him, "Cabin boy." 

And then he disappears down the stars, leaving a gobsmacked Louis behind to finish his cleaning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking shit, this took ages ahaha. I'm really sorry about that, and on top of the horribly long wait the part is pretty short, so yeah. I'm trying my best, but it's just a lot of pressure for me and I'm such a slow writer, so I'm trying to update the other story that I posted as well, (go check it out if you haven't), and yes. It's all too much for me hahah. But anyways, if you waited for this update I appreciate it so much, I love very single one of you and I hope you like it!

Louis was surprised to find the him alone in the cabin, none of his trusty crewmembers backing up their trusted Captain or peering at Louis with some sort of disgusted face. He looked relatively calm, his outfit folded neatly over the back of a shiny mahogany chair, leaving him clad in only an onyx tunic much like Louis' and a tight-fitting pair of cotton trousers, boots kicked off and thrown over by his massive, built-in four-poster bed. His hair had been braided, which surprised Louis, the thick strands curling over his shoulders and out of Louis' sight. The Captain smirked at him. 

"You found your way in, I see," he murmurs, hoisting himself out of the chair to walk towards Louis, not offering him a seat this time unlike all the other times he'd called him in here. His warm, damp breath ghosted over the cooling skin at the back of Louis neck, and the manner felt so threatening in that very moment that it brought tears to the young Prince's eyes, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. "Good sense of direction, what a great start, aye?" His grin was wide and disgusting as he wrapped his long, slender fingers around the ball of Louis' shoulder, blunt fingernails digging into his skin. "Care for a glass of rum? Top shelf, of course." 

Louis' eyes found their way to the rum bottle perched on the dining table, loopy letters curling around the oval frame of the dark blue bottle. They spelled out 'Royal British Navy', and Louis could feel the lump in his throat growing anxiously as a warm hand at the small of his back guides him to a chair. He didn't dare question the Captain, just dutifully sat down in the plush, mahogany furniture and braced himself with his arms clutching the armrests tightly, eyes never leaving the Captain as he makes his way around the table to sit down. Louis didn't miss the slight hobble in his walk yet chose to keep quiet. 

Deep green with a golden twinkle around a pitch-black iris stared at him, the Captain's eyes carrying a mocking coolness to them that made Louis sink back into his seat. Harold, he kept reminding himself, his name is Harold. He kept hoping that by using the name given to him by birth, he might not be gutted before the ship saw the next shore. 

"I can drink," Louis answers, belatedly, however, and Harry smiles toothily at him as he reaches to pour the Prince a glass, fingernails lined with filth and crusty blood, and Louis gulps down half the glass once it's filled to the brim. He could hear the older man chuckling at him, dark and deep bellied, the sound nearly soothing as the strong liquor dances around inside him, the ship lulling from side to side along with the alcohol inside him. He sits up straighter in his chair and wills it away, a careful smile spreading across his face, then. 

"You have a beautiful ship, Captain. She's absolutely stunning," he comments suavely, eyes glancing around the lavish room, dark purple bedding matching the heavy, half drawn curtains keeping the sunlight at bay. The curved, large windows sported what appeared to be a bay window seat, pillows a soft brown colour, the lining a sparkling silver. On each side of the four-poster bed stood two large bookshelves, filled to the brim with different books, maps and paperwork marked with all sorts of different symbols. Each of them also had a set of matching drapes that could be drawn, and Louis found himself fascinated by the purple silk that kept repeating itself around the room, from the table cloth he was currently eating off of to the variety of shirts and gowns draped across a large mahogany room divider. "I'm loving the purple." 

Harry smiled bemusedly at him across the rim of his glass as he sipped the sweet, stinging rum, small curls escaping the hold of his Dutch braids to stroke across his high cheekbones, the look bordering on juvenile. Louis did not know his age, nor did he dare ask, but in that particular moment he didn't look a day over 20, and it made something in the pit of Louis' stomach curl tightly. "Is it your work? The design, I mean." 

The Captain hummed quietly and leaned back in his seat, crossing one large, muscled thigh over the other as he swirled the alcohol around in his crystal glass, fingers thumbing over the intricate design as he thinks, lets his eyes wander around his personalised suite. With a tilt of his head and a nibble to his bottom lip, he downed the rest of his drink and smacked his lips together at the taste, focusing on the royal in front of him again. "My mother tended to choose purple whenever she'd have the chance to. T'was her favourite, I suppose, and I made it my mission to honour my mother," he tilts his glass towards the ceiling and murmurs something under his breath, "May she rest in Peace, amen." 

Louis nearly scoffs at that, but decides to keep quiet, manages to not draw attention to himself as he sips the rest of his drink down in quiet licks, the alcohol sweet and surprisingly pleasant on his tongue. 

"You honour your mother by raping mine?" 

The tension in the room builds so quickly it nearly knocks Louis off his chair, and with a quick look at the Captain he can tell he's made a mistake, those green eyes darkened and harsh, bushy eyebrows drawn tightly towards his nose. The crystal glass pings softly as its placed back onto the dining table, Harry's posture going from relaxed and intoxicated to harsh and intimidating so quickly Louis can't even determine whether he should stay seated or make a run for it. Jumping overboard couldn't be that bad, could it? 

"I must say, your Highness, despite your strict upbringing, you have quite the mouth," the Captain comments dryly, one leg crossed over the other and his right elbow perched on the armrest of his chair, fingers twiddling a silver toothpick. The change of posture causes lights to flicker over his chest, rays catching against a few of the dangly necklaces that hangs between his exposed pecks, and Louis swallows heavily at the sight of sweat forming there, his eyes quickly falling to the floor. "Did your mother not teach you not to run your mouth on your superiors? She seemed so proper and lovely, I wouldn't have expected any less." The grin on his face is wide, stretched and absolutely disgusting, and the harshness of his eyes nearly forces Louis to the floor as he nods slowly and lowers his head at the man, fingers twitching nervously in his lap. 

"I apologize, Captain." He mumbles quietly, struggling to bite his tongue on the comment about his mother, "It will not happen again." 

The older man seems satisfied at that, pouring himself another overfilled glass of rum, a sinister, pink tongue lapping over the pads of his fingers as some alcohol drips from the bottle, his eyes still on Louis. The tip of his thumb disappears between his plump lips with a soft suck, and Louis could swear the temperature in the room intensified with that single move, his body glued to the chair. Harry smirks and places the bottle down, leaning across the table to lock their gazes together. 

"Do you know what a cabin boy does, Louis?" 

The question is so obnoxiously simple as it slips from his mouth in slow, deliberately drawn out words, his voice wrapping around each syllable like a fine melody, husky and dark and intriguing. The shoulder of his thin, flowy shirt nearly slips down his shoulder, revealing his soft, pale skin littered with a handful of large, intricate tattoos of different kinds. Louis could make out the contours of a pirate ship on his upper arm next to a large, black heart, a beautiful rose printed on his forearm. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and when he leaned back into his chair to sip his drink, the shirt slid down and revealed the whole left side of his chest, rose coloured nipple perking as its exposed to the cold room. 

"As my cabin boy, I would expect you to help clean..." He gets out of his chair, drink still in hand, his heeled boots clacking with each step, "help Niall cook meals," his calloused fingertips tickles over the back of Louis' neck as he stops behind his chair, his voice dripping with sensuality and sex, "and, at the end of every day, you would come back to my cabin," he bent down, slid his plump lips along the shell of Louis ear and licked softly at his damp earlobe, "kneel in front of me like the good boy you are," one of his hands make their way down the front of Louis shirt to stroke across his hairless, baby soft chest, "and you would pay your respects to me, however I must please." The last sentence is whispered, almost as if it was a secret only the two of them would know of. Louis squirmed in his seat, felt tears gathering at his waterline and dampening his lashes as lips make their way down the sweat covered column of his neck, teeth nibbling softly at the juncture where shoulder and throat met. "Because I know, deep down somewhere, you were made to suck cock, your Highness." 

The words drip off his tongue in sinful waves, and Louis can't help but lean into the touch slightly, cock twitching weakly in his pants as a deep purple mark is sucked into his delicate, untouched skin, nipples teased and rubbed by rough, calloused fingers. His back arches away from the plump, purple velvet of the chair, aching to meet the touch of the Captain, yet the pleasure is short lived as Harry pulls back, fingers his hair into a quick bun at the back of his head and ties a scarf around to keep his wild baby hairs under control. He acted as if everything was fine, the sweat lining his chest and the hardness between his legs going unnoticed as he leaves Louis behind at the table, opting to sit down by his desk to map out their coordinates. Louis watches, equally shocked and fascinated by the man in front of him, and he barely manages to keep himself from palming his cock through the soft fabric of his cotton pants as those green eyes meet his. 

"You should get some sleep, Louis." A pink tongue swipes over his sinfully plump lips, surprisingly white, pearly teeth nibbling at the pink flesh as a small smile stretches across Harry's face, dimple popping. "I wouldn't want you falling asleep and drowning in your wash bucket." A raspy, deep laugh leaves him and with a quick, dismissing wave, it's as if Louis is invisible to him, his large body hunching over the desk to study the map. Liam enters moments later, almost like he knew they were done, and with a quick nod at his Captain he seizes Louis' arm in his strong hold and leads him back down into the belly of the ship, the familiar scent of salt and mould filling Louis' nostrils just as his cell comes back into view. 

He doesn't sleep at all that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the reason why it's so short is because I thought it would be best as a stand-alone chapter, not followed up by the next day or anything. Idk, it just felt right haha.


End file.
